


Two

by GarGoyl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Injury, Chains, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, entertainment fights, narcophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than spill his blood and break his bones, Ivan wanted to see his rival writhing under him for entirely different reasons. And all it took was two golden coins. AU short one-shot RusPrus, blood, chains, narcophilia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two

A/N – Hello everyone! Just wanted to say that this idea popped into my head when I was kinda drunk (like all my great ideas involving smut) and listening to some badass instrumental rap beats on youtube. Anyway, just wanted to do a RusPrus ever since I read “Break his wings” by [Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3874733/Smitty-Werbenjagermanjensen). Seriously, it’s an awesome fic!

[ _Narcophilia_ ](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Narcophilia&defid=7902141) _\- A paraphilia (fetish or kink) having to do with sleep. A narcophiliac may experience sexual arousal at the sight of their sleeping partner, at the feeling of being sleepy themselves, or may enjoy the idea of having sex with their partner while one or both of them is falling asleep._

* * *

 

The air was stale, hot and heavy with a mixture of burning incense and bad food and Ivan leaned against the blackened wall of the dungeon, grateful to feel the relative coolness of the stone on his bare back. The ashen blond sighed and pushed away the plate with the leftovers of his meager dinner, then adjusted the cloth bandage wrapped around his left bicep. The freshly stitched wound still stung quite badly, but not as bad as the gash on his thigh. It had happened the week before and he had killed three opponents since, raising the Russian’s overall score to fifty-nine.

Most of the time Ivan was numb when he fought. It was better this way, to have his mind go blank and not think of anything, not think of why he was here, not think of the huge amount his drunkard of a father still owed Ivan’s current employer. Would he survive long enough in the Arena to make up for it? If not, his sisters were going to be taken too. And in his willed numbness he’d never had any interest for the men he’d had to fight, cared not who they were beyond the immediate danger they posed – until he’d been confronted with the new Prussian fighter the crowd called the White Wolf or Gilbert the Red.

Gilbert was not only skilled and dangerous, he was also beautiful, mesmerizing even. And if their masters had allowed the fight to go full out they would have ripped each other to shreds. But Ivan did not think of that, he was used to pain and the wounds meant nothing to him. What he _did_ think of were those ruby-red eyes outlined with charcoal shadows under luscious silvery bangs, the seductively lean silhouette of the other, with just the right amount of muscle and that perfectly pale, flawless skin.  Of course, none of that had made Ivan hold back in the slightest during the match, it was after all a ‘kill or be killed sort of business’ he was in.

But now…  He wanted Gilbert and technically he could have him, because unlike Ivan who was still sort of a free man the Prussian was a slave and his master had no qualms about whoring his fighters for extra gain.

Granted, that wouldn’t go well though - the ashen blond thought amused – Gilbert was a new acquisition and unlikely to show much compliance in these matters even threatened with a whip and Ivan’s father was going to be angry to discover that his son had spent what little pocket money he was making instead of contributing it to covering his debt. But then – the Russian concluded as he stood and adjusted his belt – his father could go to hell and Gilbert had it more than coming for the damage he’d done. He would have some fun tonight.

* * *

 

“What?”

 A petite, skinny young man was sat slumped over a small wooden table at the entrance of Adnan’s section of the dungeons and the question was asked dryly upon Ivan’s approach, even if the youth didn’t even bother to look up at him.

“I want to see Gilbert Beilschmidt,” the Russian stated, producing a golden coin out of his pocket and wiggling it demonstratively.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt… ah, come back tomorrow, or… some other time in the future,” said the youth lazily, eyeing him at last. “I don’t think he’ll be able to service you as it is.”

Ivan offered him his trademark disturbing smile and pulled out a second coin. “How about now, da?” 

The boy scowled, but took the money anyway and tossed it in a drawer, standing up and knocking on the grated gate. A guard opened it and he motioned for Ivan to follow. The Russian was led along a narrow, dark corridor which had cramped cells on each side and he frowned in disgust upon seeing for the first time how the slaves were kept and heard the random pained moans, wails and coughs coming from the cells.   

Adnan’s minion showed him to the last cell somewhere in the back, where a small boy with golden blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes stood, his hands clutching the bars on the outside as he peered in. He sized up the two with a worried and suspicious air.

“Ludwig, go mop the floors,” the youth told him, curtly motioning with his head towards the exit.

“Nein! What do you want here?” the child questioned. “Bruder is-“

“Go and don’t come back until I tell you to,” the other said evenly.”Don’t make me say it twice.”

The boy glared for a moment, clenching his small fists, but obeyed and the minion waited until he’d gotten far enough, then unlocked the door.

“There, knock yourself out.”

In the middle of the cell there was an iron bath tub filled with murky, reddish colored water and melting ice cubes and the albino was lying in it apparently unconscious, head thrown back over the edge and arms hanging out.  And at first the Russian thought he was clad in some sort of armor, but then he realized that there were countless chains wrapped around his body and ending in shackles around his limbs, obviously meant to incapacitate movement.

“Wha-… is he…?”

“Nah, just out cold. Could have been worse I guess,” the youth replied.

Ivan drew closer and leaned over the Prussian – he did seem to be breathing. Barely, but he was breathing. “Did a doctor see him? Or did you just dump him here?” he inquired.

“A _doctor_? Just how much did you drink? Also, do I look like I own this place or something?” The minion rolled his eyes. “I can bring you wine and food if you want, but stop bugging me.”

Ivan groaned, pondering. The truth was that Gilbert Beilschmidt still looked beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful in slumber because he was more vulnerable and appeared almost innocent, he thought wiping a bit of the smeared black make-up off a pale cheek with his thumb. 

“Bring me some clean water and a washcloth.”  

The youth tsked annoyed, but disappeared and the ashen blond knelt near the tub, close enough to whisper in his rival’s ear, while his fingers caressed the short, wet hairs on the younger’s nape.

“Gilbert,” he teased in a sing-song voice, “If you wake up I’ll buy you some dinner, da?”

But the Prussian did not wake, only moaned softly as the other’s hand brushed a few damp hairs away from his forehead and Ivan didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or not. Maybe a fight was not what he needed right now either.

“Ugh….there.”

The youth returned with a full bucket and dropped in on the floor moodily, cursing when the water sloshed and partially spilled onto his bare legs. “By the way, I just remembered something… I don’t think he’ll be up anytime soon,” he added drawing his breath and holding up a small glass phial.

The iridescent content shone in the weak light of the single oil lamp and Ivan recognized the commonly used drug which had been offered to him on occasion as well. He’d always refused, unwilling to take the plunge into the poisonous land of artificial dreams.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind, da,” he said simply.   

Adnan’s minion gave him a suspicious glare in return. “Be very careful, Braginski. If something happens to him, something happens to you,” he warned.

The Russian snorted at the irony, almost having a mind to tell the boy that if anything were to happen to Gilbert it would have been his master’s fault only, but deciding to save his breath. He only waved him off, then proceeded to attempt extracting the albino from the tub. Darn, was he heavy with all that metal attached and Ivan’s wounds hurt and stung even worse, but he managed to lay the young man down on the rough leather mattress placed directly on the floor.

“You’re going to make this so easy for me, da?”

He stroked the Prussian’s cheek again, almost tenderly, then picked up the washcloth and dipped it in water and began to clean him, starting with his neck and going down to his torso, carefully tending to each cut and scrape. Fortunately the wounds were mostly shallow, even if they’d bled plenty and had made the water gruesomely red. Regardless, Ivan cleaned as thoroughly as the chains allowed before he decided to unwrap them from Gilbert’s torso – it was ridiculous unless Adnan had a chain fetish or something, because some more chains linked the shackles with the iron rings embedded in the stone floor and it wasn’t like the slave could go anywhere, even if he’d not been unconscious.

He wiped away all that glaring blood from the albino’s milky skin, but left the smeared black make-up on, it looked sort of wicked and all the more enticing.  Of course, the Russian thought, it would have been even more so if those gorgeous red eyes had been open, scorching him with their fire, but… - he leaned in more, using his calloused thumb to rub the younger’s lower lip and open his mouth – Gilbert being vulnerable, helpless and captive in his chemical sleep was probably better. He pressed closer, his chest meeting the other’s damp skin, and his tongue darted out to give a tentative lick to the Prussian’s lips.  They tasted like drug-spiced wine and blood, inviting Ivan to delve deeper, to slip all the way in while his hands began an exploration of their own on the expanse of bare skin. It felt so damn good and when Gilbert groaned softly into the forced kiss which he was blissfully unaware of, the ashen blond felt a clear rush of blood south.     

Ivan sat up and after a short moment of hesitation pulled the rest of the chains down from around his rival’s waist and past his hips, sliding them all the way off his long, slender legs. His rough hand lightly gripped Gilbert’s manhood and he stroked his thumb along the side of the shaft, eliciting a low, sensual moan from the sleeping man. His body began to respond to the touch too and even the sheet-white cheeks became deliciously dusted with pink.  Ivan leaned in again and flicked his tongue over a hard nipple, then tried his teeth on it.

“I will tell everyone about this, da,” he chuckled maliciously against the albino’s skin, reaching down and pressing his palms flat on the slender thighs, pushing them apart. “How much you liked when I touched you, fufufu…”

Ivan pushed his knees between the other’s legs to prevent him from moving too much and, after pondering a bit, decided to dip his fingers into the heated oil of the lamp. This would do, he didn’t mean to cause too much damage. The Prussian tried to wiggle away instinctively from the unwanted touch when a prodding finger found its way inside his body, quickly followed by another, but the ashen blond pressed him flat against the mattress, biting his earlobe and nipping at his exposed throat. He almost had a mind to leave a self-explanatory bitemark there, as if he would on a lover’s skin, but Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn’t his lover. He was his rival and this wasn’t about passion, it was about domination and if the other happened to enjoy what Ivan was doing to him it was all the more shameful for him.

The Russian lifted the younger’s legs and pressed them against his chest as he thrust in, muffling the other’s cry with his own mouth. Hands flew up and short nails dug into the blond’s strong shoulders, but Gilbert’s eyes remained closed, the drug still didn’t allow him to wake. Even so, Ivan felt the albino’s sharp teeth biting his mouth, making him bleed. He didn’t mind though, swallowing as he settled into a rough rhythm of thrusts, one hand gripping the Prussian’s shoulder to keep him from writhing so forcefully and the other viciously digging into his hip. There would be a bruise there for sure.

Pleasure took him, dark and sinful with each movement, coiling in the pit of his stomach more and more and his hand left Gilbert’s shoulder to pull at the short, silvery hair while with the other he reached between their now sweat-covered bodies and closed around his rival’s throbbing member. A few rough pumps were enough to coax out the sounds he wanted to hear and Ivan smirked through his pants.

“Moan for me like a slut, da…”

Gilbert’s helpless and incredibly sensual moans saw him finally to his orgasm, blinding, searing pleasure shooting through his body, more satisfying than anything he’d ever felt. Still his hand went on, slender hips moving up to meet it until the blond felt the body under him tense and arch off the mattress and hot seed spilled over his fingers.  The Prussian reached his peak with a loud moan which melted into a sigh, and Ivan finally allowed himself to collapse on top of him, panting hard, pleasantly exhausted.

Afterwards, the blond indulged for a while in the lazy afterglow of their rough mating, gently caressing Gilbert’s hair. Damn, he was so beautiful, like a sleeping Snow White, and he’d been all his - in fact Ivan was pretty sure he’d been the Prussian’s first time, like that anyway. Would the White Wolf ever dare look him in the eye after this? Would that sharp glare turn bashful and crimson mare the perfect pallor of the other’s cheeks?

He was sure Sadiq Adnan’s minion had watched everything, but the boy gave him the courtesy of not showing himself to view until Ivan had cleaned himself and had pulled his trousers back up.  

“Please, make sure to clean this mess and relay to him all the details,” the Russian told him, gracing him with that disturbing smile which never seemed to fail.

“Huh? No, no, you did… uh… _that_ at your own peril, but it’s not like I’ll get my head ripped off over _your_ shit!”

In reply Ivan drew closer and patted the boy’s shoulder reassuringly. “Oh, come on little one, he’s in chains,” he said motioning towards the slumbering form. “So say it from a distance, da?”

“Yeah, yeah… “ the minion grumbled. “He’ll come fuck you up after this, you know that?”

“I’m counting on it, da,” the Russian chuckled, walking away.

**THE END**

A/N – You’re probably wondering why I made Sadiq  the slave master, well, just because, hehe. Also, if you want to ‘see’ the rematch, let me know and I might consider it.


End file.
